Wednesday, 20 February 2008

Standing Room Only

Cycling again today. I only just avoid bumping into L and Doggo. I keep out of sight as they come bombing along the road, both looking very athletic. Doggo looks very determined, as if he was on the trail of something.

It's cold, so I take a coffee with me on my ride. Unfortunately I’m all out of the syrup stuff that I spice it up with, so I put a drop of Camp in it instead. It wasn’t as bad as I expected.

My bike is starting to show the strain of the 4000 miles I've done on it (impressive eh?) and some strange noises are coming from it. I must get it serviced, although I fear this could be almost as expensive as getting the car done. While I've slowed down to study these sounds, two chaps come flying past me. Not fair.

I see them both again on the way home, chatting in Spondon, obviously having just met up. I put the hammer down to make sure I get a good start on them. Hopefully they won't come past me. They don't.

Derby Tri club are organising a double-duathlon which sounds awesome to me. L says it sounds like a chocolate bar. It's run-bike-run-bike-run. Well it would be awesome if the runs were longer. They're only a mile each, which doesn't suit my strategy at all. My last duathlon had more than twice that amount of running split over just two runs.

I cycle to the pool and then stand at the side of it gob smacked at the amount of people in it. It's standing room only. I count 52 people either in the pool or trying to get in it. There are nine people alone in lane two. There's only six in lane three, but that's only because the Iceberg is in there. With a heavy heart I join that lane and I'm quickly on the wrong end of a forearm smash from said Iceberg. Perhaps it's nothing personal; I get several elbows in my face from other people too. Is this safe? Is this legal? Madness.

Some people aren't staying longer than a few minutes. I saw two girls who I don't think even got in the pool. It quickly becomes survival of the fitness and as people either wave the white flag and give up or perhaps become too injured to continue, spaces begin to appear. Somehow I manage do my lengths. Then battered and bruised, I ride home and then on to dog class.

I am welcomed home by Mexican Slag with eggs, that's what L calls her latest concoction in the kitchen and very nice it is too.

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